


And It's Clear, You're On Your Way

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: When Bellamy started acting, it really seemed like a good idea. He got cast in a pilot right away, and it seemed like he was going places.
Unfortunately, the pilot didn't get picked up, so he's still basically exactly where he started. But maybe his big break is coming. Stranger things have happened.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Reading this [excellent Random Roles interview](http://www.avclub.com/article/cedric-yarbrough-speechless-reno-911-and-getting-j-243620), I couldn't help thinking about how it would feel to NOT get a role in Beverly Hills Chihuahua 3. Like, man. That has got to be tough.
> 
> So, naturally, a struggling actors AU.

Bellamy's first acting gig was, he has decided, actually a curse. Not because it was bad, or anything. It was, in fact, amazing. He was cast immediately, everyone was enthusiastic, he got paid well, and Octavia followed him on set and no one cared, so she got to eat from craft services. 

They all said he was a natural, going places, and he hadn't really believed them, but he wanted it to be true. It would have been such a good story, how he got cast for a pilot he auditioned for on a whim, and it took off and he had a great job for the next few years, launching him into a career. And it was _realistic_ , too, based on what had happened already. Bellamy's not one of those people who loses his heart in unrealistic fantasies. It was a good pilot, and it really seemed like they were going places.

And then the network changed their minds, no one else picked it up, and the project was scrapped before anyone even saw it. 

Unfortunately, Bellamy still really _liked_ acting. And he knows it's not a practical thing to like. But he didn't have much trouble convincing himself it was an _acceptable_ thing to like. He already lives in LA, he's already working a bizarre collection of odd-jobs because he doesn't have a college degree and can't afford to get one, so it's not hard to slot in auditions. Most everyone else in his position is doing the same thing; everyone expects it.

And if he'd been a complete failure, he probably would have stopped slotting them in. But there's something weirdly _addictive_ about being a Z-list actor. He is, in no possible universe, a _success_. The closest thing he's had to a real recurring role is being a featured extra on the first season of a Lifetime TV adaptation of _Freaky Friday_ , but that was at least enough to get him into SAG, so he could be doing worse. And there's a thrill to auditioning, to getting a callback, to getting _cast_. It always feels like he's just close enough to something substantial that he can't give up.

It's the actual classic Hollywood story, he's pretty sure. Dude who never gets a big break and ends up tending bar and talking about how it could have been.

But he mostly thinks it beats never trying at all.

It's a hard thing to convince himself of when he just lost out on a role in _Snow Daze 3: There's Snow Business Like Show Business_ , the incomprehensibly titled second direct-to-Netflix sequel to an already terrible kid's movie about a CGI husky with a more impressive filmography than Bellamy himself has. The original, which he and Clarke drunk-watched in preparation for his audition (because Bellamy is in a place in his life where needs to do _prep_ for these things, fuck) was actually a real movie, sort of. It was released in theaters and did well enough to justify the sequels, but none of the big-name voice actors wanted to come back for _Snow Daze 2_ ( _Much Ado About Puppies_ ), let alone a third one, which meant Bellamy spent two weeks trying to perfect his impression of James Van Der Beek impersonating Liam Hemsworth.

It would have been depressing enough if he'd _gotten_ the part.

"What I don't get," Clarke says, sounding genuinely upset, "is why it's _There's Snow Business Like Show Business_."

"Yeah," he agrees. "No one gets that."

"No, but-- _There's No Business Like Snow Business_ is _right there_. I wanted you to get the job just so you could tell them to change the name."

He snorts. "Thanks. I'm glad that's why you wanted me to get it." 

"Sorry, I was having trouble coming up with reasons I genuinely wanted you to get a role in _Snow Daze 3_."

"Because now for the rest of my life I have to know that I _didn't_ get cast in _Snow Daze 3_. I am not good enough to be cast as the _second_ poor man's Liam Hemsworth."

"Hey," Clarke says, sobering up. "Don't say that. It's not about being _good_ , Bellamy. You know that. It's a crapshoot."

His mouth tugs up, somewhat against his will. "I know. Sorry, just--fuck. It's not like I even wanted to have that shit on my resume, but at least I'd have _something_ new on my resume. Anyway," he adds, before she can reply. He doesn't actually want to mope about this, and he wants Clarke to comfort him about it even less. "How's the trial going?"

"Fake jury duty is actually worse than real jury duty."

"Sucks," he says.

"Yeah, but I'm working, so I'll buy next round," Clarke says, pushing out of the booth. "What do you want?"

"PBR."

"Hipster."

"You're not getting paid _much_ ," he says, and she snorts.

He watches her navigate through the crowd with a smile he knows is just a little goofy. He knows plenty of other struggling actors, but it's hard to really be _friends_ with most of them. They're the ones he sees at every audition, the guys who are superficially a lot like him, same age range, similar heights and builds. Even the ones he likes, there's always the chance that one of them will get a role the other really wants, and Bellamy doesn't like getting attached.

Since they're in totally different demographics, he and Clarke are rarely in direct competition for parts. And, at this point, they like each other enough that he's always rooting for her to get roles more than he's rooting for himself, and she tends to feel the same. If they went for the same thing, they'd just be happy that _one_ of them got it.

But most of the time, if they're trying out for the same thing, it's usually because they're looking for two different people, which was how they met in the first place. They were supposed to be reading a scene together, but they accidentally got into a fight while they were waiting, so the scene, well, sucked. It happened again two weeks later, and Bellamy had decided he was going to be awesome just to show her up, but then she'd been awesome too, and they nailed the scene so hard he couldn't believe they didn't get cast.

Clarke couldn't either, and they'd gone to drink their sorrows away, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Except for the part where he kind of wants to marry her, but he knows how to ignore that. He's an actor, after all. He's great at pretending to like people more than he really does, and this is the same thing, just in reverse.

She slides back in across from him with two PBRs, and he rolls his eyes. "Now who's a hipster?"

"Still you. I really am sorry about the part," she adds.

"It went to the guy who played Hannah Montana's older brother, so I guess I didn't lose it to a _nobody_."

"Bellamy. I mean it. I'm sorry."

"I know."

It is of course right at that touching moment when he hears the horribly familiar sound of James Brown saying he wants to _get on up_ , and then his own voice saying, "I never thought this could happen to a guy like me."

Technically speaking, Bellamy's most well-known role is not the featured extra, but he likes to say it is. Both because he doesn't count commercials as major roles and because the ad campaign which has paid most of his bills is--embarrassing. At best.

"Erectile dysfunction can happen to anyone, of any age, and it's nothing to be ashamed of," commercial-him is saying, and it's true, and a good message. He's had guys--including a guy he was hitting on--tell him that the commercials were comforting. 

It's just not how he thought he would make a difference, as an actor or a person. And it's very hard to not be embarrassed by the ads in public.

"Bellamy's boner pill ad!" Gina yells from behind the bar, because all of his friends are both supportive and terrible. "Everyone drink!"

"Is this the one where he rides the horse?" someone asks, just as the scene where he rides a horse on the beach starts, and there's a general roar of approval.

"I feel like your penis would probably be in better shape of you weren't riding a horse bareback," Clarke observes.

"You really do not understand the causes of erectile dysfunction," he grumbles, and she nods.

"You're right, I don't. I should probably watch this ad, like, twenty more times. So I internalize all its wisdom."

"Like you don't have every line of dialogue memorized."

"Thanks to Glamoril," Clarke says, along with the commercial, "I'm not worried about feeling down when I should be getting up."

"Do you also know all the side effects?"

"Obviously. I'm trying to steal your job."

"That would be a bold new campaign."

"I don't know. Having a cute blonde talking about how hot she finds guys who take boner pills might actually be a good tactic. _Before we can get it on, you have to get it up. Glamoril_."

He chokes on his laugh. "Jesus. Between that and the _Snow Daze_ subtitle, I'm thinking you missed your calling. You should be a writer."

"I thought it would be easier to break into acting first," she says. "And then leverage that into a writing gig. Getting into writing is hard."

"That's probably true. And depressing. It's not like we're doing that well breaking into acting either." He puts his head down on the table. "Fuck. Can you believe we do this for a living?"

"We don't." Her hand slides into his hair, rubbing gently, and he can feel tension draining out of him at her touch. "We don't make enough money to support ourselves off just acting gigs, so we're not even doing this for a living. We're doing this to supplement our food-service income."

He snorts, and props his chin up on the table to look at her. "Thanks. That really helps."

She raises her beer to him. "Any time."

*

"How'd the dog thing go?"

Demographically speaking, Bellamy's roommate would be competition for basically every role Bellamy wants, except Miller is an actor because he really cares about _theater_. He's in grad school at UCLA to get his masters', and he wants to be a professor, which is a way better life choice. He's also both a good acting resource and a source of snarky comments, which is, of course, the basis of most of Bellamy's relationships.

"Lost it to the dude who played Hannah Montana's brother."

"Jason Earles?"

Bellamy slants him a look. "Why the fuck do you know that?"

"Because it's my job to be informed about the industry."

"You don't even want to work in Hollywood," Bellamy grumbles. "And you don't have a job. Also, that is not vital information for _anyone_ , what the fuck."

"Don't take your bitterness out on me," Miller says, mild. "Still, that sucks. Sorry, man. You got anything else lined up?"

" _Crazy Ex-Girlfriend_ is looking for Asian guys who can sing and dance next week. So I just need to learn to sing and dance."

"Yeah, solid plan."

He sighs. "I dunno. I've got stuff to do. They want me to reprise my role as _Guy #2_ on that sitcom I did a couple months ago. If I play my cards right, I might even get a name someday."

"Dream big."

"Yeah." He closes his eyes, not really _going to sleep_ , just resting. He's got a shift at the coffee shop in an hour; he could nap, if he wanted to. "Sorry, I'm having trouble with how hard I'm taking this whole CGI dog thing."

"Nah, I get it," Miller says. "What did Clarke say?"

"Who says I talked to Clarke?"

"You can barely take a shit without telling Clarke. Besides, you guys watched both those fucking movies. Clearly she's invested."

"She said the same thing you're saying. But she bought me beer too, so I like her better."

"Yeah, that's definitely why."

Bellamy's phone buzzes on his chest, and he opens open eye to check the message.

**Clarke** : Movie looking for male and female extras, twenty to thirty, for a party scene. Want to come?

**Me** : When?

**Clarke** : Thurs @ 4:00

**Me** : Is it a porno?

**Clarke** : Why do you always ask that?

**Me** : Because you've texted me four times to say you accidentally went to an open call for a porno  
Twice is a pattern  
Four times is some sort of disorder  
I don't even know

**Clarke** : It's not a porno

**Me** : Did you find it on craigslist?

**Clarke** : There are plenty of legitimate job postings on craigslist!  
If you're not looking for jobs there you're missing out

**Me** : Send me the link

**Clarke** : You're going to feel so dumb when it's legit

**Me** : I'm going to feel so happy we're not accidentally showing up to be in a porno

**Clarke** : Here, totally legit job  
Also at least one of those four wasn't actually _porn_ , just a student film with nudity

**Me** : We just call those amateur porn

"This is why I make fun of you about Clarke, by the way," says Miller.

Bellamy jerks his head up from his phone. "What?"

"You know it's obvious the second you start talking to her, right? I didn't have to ask who was texting you."

"I only have like three friends," he says, opening up the link Clarke sent him. To his mingled relief and annoyance, it's not _obviously_ someone trying to cast a porno. "You had a one-in-three chance of being right."

"Your face is fucking ridiculous."

"Love you too," he says, and texts Clarke that she got lucky with this one.

She texts back a kissy face emoji, and he very pointedly does not look at Miller.

*

Clarke brings him coffee on Thursday, because Clarke is the best.

"At what point do you stop feeling sorry for me about not getting that shitty job?" he asks. "I don't want to get used to you being nice to me."

"I already stopped. This one is me being smug that this isn't a porno."

"Not an _obvious_ porno," he says. "It could still be."

"Uh huh. It's okay to admit you were wrong, Bellamy. This is a safe space."

"It's only a safe space if it's not a porno. We still don't know."

She slides her arm into his, all warm, casual affection. "That's why I bring you. If it _is_ a porno, they'll send us home right away. You are famous for having problems with, you know."

He snorts. "No, I don't know. Tell me."

"If any industry cares about male-performance-enhancing drugs, it's the porn industry. I bet they'd want your autograph."

"I have no idea why we're friends."

"Because I hooked you up with this awesome job."

"That must be it."

It's not a porno. It's one of those navel-gazey, twenty-something white guy indie movies about how women exist to teach men how to be happier, but it's a job that's going to pay him, and a job that's going to pay him to hang out, pretend to drink from an empty cup, and chat with Clarke for a few hours. It's his favorite kind of job, aside from real jobs where he gets to try to actually be a multidimensional character. 

Of course, he and Clarke come up with names and backstories for their _extras hanging out in the background of this party_ roles, but that's different from being _characters_.

"I'm a marine biologist," Clarke decides.

"Yeah? What are you doing at this shitty party?"

"Marine biologists have fun too, Bellamy."

"Excuse me, my character's name is Ronald."

Clarke giggles into her solo cup. "Ronald? Really? Do you go by Ronald?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You look like more of a Ron to me."

"I don't like being called Ron."

"Sorry, Ronald," she says, very serious. "I should respect your name. I'm Candi. With an I."

"Awesome. Candi the marine biologist definitely doesn't sound like a bond girl."

"Don't stereotype. Candi has layers."

"Hey, everyone!" the director yells. "We're moving to the second stage of the party, later in the night. We'll send some of you home, and the rest of you, we're going to be putting you into couples. Flirting, touching, maybe some kissing. The usual."

Clarke and Bellamy move closer together automatically, Bellamy's hand finding her hip and her arm sliding around his neck. It's not like this is their first rodeo.

"Awesome, perfect," says one of the assistants, passing by them. "Can you guys make out when we're rolling? It's the end of the night, you guys have been connecting the whole time, and now you're finally hooking up before you go home together. Sound good?"

"Sure," says Clarke, and he just nods.

The first time Bellamy kissed Clarke, they were rehearsing for her role as _Becky_ , a rich, popular girl in some ABC Family drama where all the "teens" were at least twenty-five. She was supposed to grab the lead and give him a forceful kiss, and Clarke had called Bellamy in to help her with it. It hadn't been particularly hot, since they were talking through how she needed to yank him and what it looked like, but it was still kissing. Sort of.

They've had to do it a few times since then--Clarke tends to get cast as rich, popular girls who exist just to create conflict among the main characters--but they've never done it on camera before. 

It shouldn't be that different.

"I didn't think Candi really liked Ronald that much."

"Are you kidding?" she asks. She's so _close_. "Ronald is hot. She's very shallow. And she really wants to get laid tonight. That's why she came to the party."

"As long as she doesn't care about him as a person."

"Oh, no way."

He shifts a little closer, and maybe they don't have to start making out right as soon as the director calls action, but it's not like they're doing anything _else_.

It's somewhere between stage kissing and real kissing. He's aware that they're being filmed, thinking about not looking _too_ different from minute to minute, so they won't cause continuity issues. 

But aside from that, he's not doing anything _except_ kissing her. They're not trying to figure out how to do a scene. The scene is just kissing, and her hand is tangled in his hair, holding him close.

He's not convinced he's going to notice when the scene ends. It's not like he _wants_ to.

But the director yells cut and they break apart, because that's how this works. She straightens her shirt and he checks his hair, and once they're dismissed, he offers to pay for dinner.

"Because it wasn't a porno?" she asks.

"Maybe Ronald's just a really stand-up guy."

Clarke grins and pats his shoulder. "Sure. We can pretend it's that."

*

"Good news," says Roan.

Bellamy frowns at his agent. Intellectually, he knows Roan does good work for him. Or, at least, the best work that can be done, given the general level his career is at. Roan finds things for him to do, and every few weeks they have another argument about whether or not Bellamy should take _biracial_ off his resume for jobs which don't specify they want non-white actors. Roan's convinced it will get him more callbacks; Bellamy is pretty sure it will get him awkward but not quite illegal questions about _where he's from_ , and then no callbacks, and that he would feel shitty about it regardless.

Still, they meet once a week and Bellamy doesn't regret paying him. He doesn't enjoy it, but he's pretty sure it's better than not having an agent.

"What kind of good news?"

"Two kinds."

"Seriously?"

"First, Glamoril has another ad for you."

"Oh good."

"I'm sorry, did you not want it?" Roan asks. "I can tell them you no longer want to be the face of erectile dysfunction, but then you won't get paid."

"No, of course, I want to. Sorry I'm not great at faking enthusiasm about knock-off viagra."

"Judging from how happy they are with your performance in the campaign, you seem to be excellent at faking enthusiasm about knock-off viagra."

He doesn't have a good counter argument, so his life is kind of a disaster. "You said there were two kinds of good news?" he asks instead.

Roan is at least professional enough to not gloat. "I did. You remember _Snow Daze_?"

"Three," he says, and Roan raises his eyebrows. " _Snow Daze 3_."

"Ah, of course. Well, they didn't want you for the lead, but they're apparently adding--the protagonist has a brother in this installment. They'd like you to play him."

Bellamy stares. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. He is, apparently, a--" Roan consults his notes. " _Rebellious black sheep_ who has been out of contact with his brother for many years, but now that Patch is making it big in Hollywood--"

"Wow."

"They thought you'd do well with the material. Third-billing. Your name will show up on the list of actors on the Netflix preview screen."

He wants to be snarky about that, but it's never actually happened before, and it would be kind of a big deal. "That is actually good news."

"I thought so. They're sending the paperwork next week. Assuming you want it."

"Yeah. Obviously. Thanks." He runs his hand through his hair. "Any auditions?"

"How's the singing and dancing coming along?"

"Clarke and I got drunk and watched a lot of _So You Think You Can Dance_ the other night."

"Did it make you think you could dance?"

"No."

"Fair enough. You're going anyway. And an open call for extras for a high-school scene. Here's the information so you can pass it on to Clarke."

"I'll tell her you say hi."

Clarke is the one who introduced him and Roan, but not because Roan is her agent. The two of them both come from rich, conservative families who disapprove of their life choices, which means that Clarke likes Roan, but doesn't actually like seeing him because he reminds her of the life she left behind, or something. Roan mostly seems amused by Clarke, but from what Bellamy can tell, amused condescension is the only emotion Roan knows how to display.

But he did get Bellamy a part in _Snow Daze 3_. So there's that.

"Please do," says Roan. "That's it for this week. But I'm working on a recurring extra role for you."

"Cool. Let me know when you get the paperwork and I'll come sign."

"Always a pleasure, Bellamy."

He texts Clarke as soon as he's on the bus, because he isn't pathetic _at all_. She's just the person he always wants to share good news with. In a very normal, friendly way.

Really.

**Me** : Drinks on me tonight

**Clarke** : Omg did you get another boner ad

**Me** : That is what someone who doesn't want me to buy her a drink would ask

**Clarke** : So yes  
Congrats!!  
I have to work tonight, covering a shift for Luna  
But drinks on me  
You can get me one when the paycheck comes in

**Me** : At Polis?

**Clarke** : Yeah, eight to two  
Seriously, congrats, I'm so happy for you  
And your inconsistent boner

**Me** : Thanks  
You're a good friend

*

Clarke is on call at Polis, a club Bellamy actively hates, but ends up at once a week because all his friends have entanglements there. He likes it a lot more since Clarke's ex-girlfriend stopped coming, but he's still just not really great with clubs. He's even worse at club-dancing than audition-dancing , and while he's capable of flirting, he gets less and less good at it the longer he knows Clarke. Mostly because he never wants to flirt with anyone but her.

Plus, as soon as he comes in, there's a literal record scratch, and then a sample of Macklemore saying, "Walk into the club like," before James Brown starts singing about being a sex machine.

Bellamy doesn't even know why he _has_ friends.

Monty, Miller's boyfriend, waves from the DJ booth, and Bellamy flips him off. Miller's hanging out too, chatting with the other DJ, Jasper, and Jasper's girlfriend. When he scans the dance floor, he spots Octavia and Lincoln too, and they both give him a wave.

There are a couple advantages to everyone knowing whenever he comes in. Just a couple.

Another advantage is that Clarke already has a drink waiting for him at the bar. She always looks amazing when she's on shift, tank tops that show off her chest to full advantage and hair spilling over her shoulders, and it makes his heart lurch. He always feels bad, feeling attracted to her at work. 

Her fond smile is all Clarke, though, and he returns it.

"Congrats," she says.

"It's not really a big deal," he says. "I knew they liked me. It's not a surprise they want me back."

"Still. This is the fifth one, right? That's more of a recurring role than I've ever had in anything."

"I've actually got better news," he admits, and it's awesome, seeing her uncomplicated happiness for him. He doesn't know how he and Clarke got like this, but he's so grateful.

"Yeah? Give me a sec to do the rounds and then tell me."

He watches as Clarke slides down the bar, leaning over and flirting easily, laughing at bad jokes and dodging out of the way of drunk guys trying to paw at her. It's not really evidence of being a good actress so much as evidence of being a woman in the service industry, but it still makes him ache, that she's so good at this, and she's probably going to be stuck playing high-school mean girls until she ages out of it.

When she gets back to him, her smile falls into something softer and wearier. "So, other good news?" she asks.

"I'm going to be in _Snow Days 3_ after all, so I can give you their feedback about the name."

Her laugh bubbles out of her, all genuine delight. "Seriously? They changed their minds?"

"No, they want me to play the dog's brother."

"Patch has a brother now? That wasn't a part of the _Snow Daze_ canon."

"Yeah. He's a rebel who's trying to capitalize on his brothers fame."

"Is he going to wear sunglasses?"

"I don't even know if they have a finalized script yet. But I'll suggest it."

Clarke drums her fingers on the bar. "See, that's what's so weird to me. It should still be in the _Untitled Snow Daze Sequel_ stage, but they already have the subtitle. They probably _started_ with the title and liked it so much they had to make the movie. They probably thought it was _good_."

"So you don't think I can talk them out of it," he says, all fondness.

"I think you should try. Did I congratulate you yet?"

"No, but it was pretty obvious."

"Still, that's awesome. I'm really glad you don't have to live with the knowledge you weren't cast in _Snow Daze 3_."

"Yeah, me too. I'm going to be third billed, apparently."

"It's direct to DVD, right?"

"If not direct to Netflix. I don't know if it's worth producing DVDs."

"There were DVDs of those really low-budget fairy tale movies I did additional voices for," Clarke says. "Something needs to go in bargain bins at Target."

"Yeah, that sounds like exactly where it's going."

She reaches over and squeezes his hand, all too brief. "Really, Bellamy. I'm so happy for you."

"I know. But I still can't afford to buy you that many drinks, so get something good soon, okay?"

"Yeah," she agrees. "I'm doing my best."

*

Bellamy's been in the business long enough to _not_ think that things are looking up for him, but they're definitely going well. He signs the contract for _Snow Daze 3_ , he sings and dances well enough to get a couple actual _lines_ in the _Crazy Ex-Girlfriend_ scene, and Roan finds him an audition for a recurring guest spot in some new ABC sitcom. And all that's on top of another boner pill ad and his usual ragtag collection of extra spots.

Things might not be looking up, but he's at least going to have a pretty good couple of months.

Clarke's not doing as well, which makes him ache sometimes. She's getting cast a little more, but it's because she's starting to get typecast. It's better than not getting cast, but he hates the way she's getting reduced to the bitchy, popular girl, the one who always exists just to be unsympathetic. She does the best she can with the roles, but she's not supposed to have much by way of depth. He was waiting for her when they were filming on adjoining sets one day and remembers hearing the director tell her she was showing too much vulnerability. She wasn't supposed to have _layers_.

But she has other prospects too. She's optimistic about some weird YouTube thing she has a callback for, and he's really rooting for her getting to play the wicked witch who pretends to be a beautiful princess in a new kids' show. Clarke has a history of doing well with fairy tale stuff.

And he's thrilled when she texts she needs to rehearse, in her words, _actually getting the guy for once_.

Miller is at Monty's for the weekend, so he tells her to come to him. He makes dinner, since her diet tends to be a disaster, and she tells him about the role, which is essentially the same popular blonde role, but in an indie comedy which is focusing on the popular blonde girl as a human being.

"So, you'd be the lead?" he asks.

"One of them. It's about this quiet girl who doesn't have many friends and the popular girl who's secretly insecure connecting online, without knowing each others' identities."

"And you're hooking up with a guy and not her?"

Clarke laughs. "Yeah, I'm disappointed in that too. But the male love interest is fine. He's a nerd without managing to come off like wish fulfillment for the writer. The two of them are best friends and stressing out about going to different colleges."

"Awesome."

"Are you too old to play a high school senior? I think you'd be a good fit for him."

"Yeah?"

"They're casting the girls first, but we know you and I work well together. And it's one of those movies where the script is kind of bare bones and it's supposed to be, you know, loose, natural dialogue. Lots of improv. I'd probably be a lot better at that with you."

"You know I'll take any job I can get," he says. "If they'll let me audition, I will."

"I'll give them your name if they cast me," she says, and then looks guilty. "Or if they don't, obviously."

"If they don't cast you, they probably don't care much about your opinions. And their taste sucks. So, yeah. Just give them my name if they want you."

Her smile softens strangely and she ducks her head away from him. "Okay, cool. Let's do this."

It's pretty standard scenes, but there's something weird about running them with Clarke. The characters aren't much like them, but it's much easier to fall into their own vibe anyway. Usually when they run scenes together, they're strangers or lovers, but they aren't really supposed to _like_ each other. It feels like talking to Clarke, in a way running lines with her almost never does.

"I should bring you to the audition," she says, grinning, when they're done. "I do so much better with you."

"If I'm free, sure."

"This is good, though, right? Like--really good."

"I always think you're amazing," he says, and to his surprise, she looks away again, with the same strange smile.

It's been kind of a weird night.

"Yeah." She bites her lip and steps closer. "I am worried about one thing."

"What?"

"I've never kissed my best friend. I'm not sure I can be convincing about it."

He swallows reflexively. "Uh, do you have another best friend I don't know about?" he asks. "I'm not keeping a running count, but you've definitely kissed me a few times now."

"We've rehearsed. It's different. I've never kissed _you_."

"You don't even have the part yet," he says, through the lump in his throat. "You might not need to practice this."

"I'm trying to be cute and charming, Bellamy," she says. "Is it working, or not?"

He lets his hand rest on her hip, his favorite spot, something grounding, and she steps right into his space. It's a familiar position for them, but not for _them_.

She's right; he hasn't ever kissed _her_.

"You don't need to work for that. Just--" He wets his lips, brushes his nose against hers. "Just ask, Clarke."

"I really, really want to find out if you actually suffer from erectile dysfunction," she says, and all the tension in the air breaks all at once. He laughs, and she does too, and it's not the same at all, when he kisses her this time. He can taste her smile, and her laughter, and--

His best friend. He's kissing his best friend. This is what it's like.

She's the one who pulls back, right as he's pressing closer, and there's a second where he's worried he fucked up. That he misunderstood.

But her smile is nervous, and she's worrying her lip like she's just as worried about fucking up as he is. "Bellamy--"

He cups her chin, brushing his thumb under her lip to get it out of her mouth, and leans in for another kiss, soft and quick. "Yeah," he says. "I love you too. And if I have any performance issues, I know exactly what to take for them, so--"

She laughs again. "I guess I'll find out, huh?"

He can't resist one more kiss. "Yeah," he says. "I'm not worried."

*

He and Clarke have always made sure to watch the premieres of whatever shows they're in together, even if sometimes their schedules mean they have to watch them together on DVR after the fact. Given the questionable nature of both their careers, it can sometimes be a problem--they just have to watch Bellamy's Glamoril commercials on YouTube, once they're uploaded--but it's a fun tradition. Not everyone would celebrate being Juror #6, but it's nice to have someone who's equally excited about it. It's nice to treat this stuff like a big deal.

And _Snow Daze 3_ is, obviously, a huge deal. After all, as Clarke points out, it's a _full-length film_ and he's _third billed_ , and that's the best either of them has ever done.

Granted, it's direct to Netflix and he's playing a CGI dog, but still. It's still the most impressive credit on his resume, and that's worth really celebrating.

She had to tie his tie for him.

"You need to learn this before you start getting cast in real movies," she tells him. "You're going to be on a lot more red carpets."

"Why can't you keep doing it for me? Are you dumping me as soon as I get famous? That's not usually how this works. I thought people wanted to date successful actors."

"No, because once we're famous, I can upgrade," she says, tugging the tie firmly. "So you're going to need to learn."

"Oh, right. Trading me in for a bigger name. I get it." He ducks down to kiss her. "Did I mention you look amazing?"

She spins for him, grinning. She is wearing an actual _gown_. "You did, but say it more."

"No, I'm just doing it once. After this, I'm focusing on how stupid it is to have a black-tie premiere for a Netflix movie about talking dogs."

"And yet all our friends are in."

"Well, you're proving booze and they get to heckle me. Of course they're in."

Clarke tugs him down for another kiss. "They're proud."

"Sure they are."

But they are, in their way. There are hugs and congratulations, and everyone really _did_ dress up, and when they crowd together on the couch, his heart is filled with warmth and affection. And, admittedly, already a decent amount of alcohol, but still. It's nice, being supported.

"Everyone ready?" Monty asks. He's manning the projector, as the person most familiar with tech.

Bellamy can't believe they _rented a projector_. Clarke put down red carpet, too, and put up a marquee that listed the name of the film as _Snow Daze 3: There's No Business Like Snow Business_ , because she refuses to let that go.

He loves her so much.

"Ready!" the group choruses.

"Okay, showtime," says Monty, and there's the immediate, unmistakable sound of James Brown, and then he appears on the screen, as himself, in the newest Glamoril ad. "What's a movie without previews?" Monty asks, innocent, after Bellamy twists around to scowl at him.

"I fucking hate you guys," he mutters, but when everyone starts yelling his lines along with the commercial, he joins in, and when Clarke wraps her arms around him, settling in close, he kisses her hair.

He's not a _star_. He'll probably never be a star.

But it's almost a living. And right now, it's more than enough.


End file.
